


Lost and Found

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:25:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miranda hears through the grapevine that Andy has gone back home to Ohio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Written a few years ago as a DWP Secret Santa fic. Comments are amazing!

Miranda Priestly opened the _New York Times_ with a snap, suppressing a smirk as her second assistant jumped at the sound. The mousy blonde -- Alice? Alyssa? -- precariously set the searing Starbucks cup on her desk and scurried away. Miranda busied herself with stock updates, setting the paper onto the glass surface so she could reach for the coffee.

 

She took a sip. The liquid burned her tongue.

 

Perfect.

 

At least the new girl didn't screw that up. All of her second assistants had been extremely disappointing since-- No. It would not do to work herself up by thinking of the ungrateful woman who had all but abandoned her.

 

She heard Nigel's approach before she saw him, glancing up to confirm her heightened aural awareness. He perched himself on Emily's desk and gave her an appreciative once-over. Miranda turned back to her paper.

 

"Love the Galliano," Nigel said, his voice slightly above a whisper. "I don't remember seeing that in The Closet."

 

"Actually," Emily began, her voice dropping, "Andrea gave it to me. One of her Parisian cast-offs."

 

Miranda's ears tingled at the mention of the girl's name. She strained to listen, forcing her eyes to remain fixed on the newspaper.

 

"I saw her the other day," Nigel mentioned.

 

"Did you?"

 

"Mmm. She was on assignment or something, interviewing people on the street. Can you imagine? We had coffee."

 

"She's still at that newspaper, then?"

 

"Yes, though who knows for how much longer. She looked completely worn out. She mentioned something about going home to the Midwest for a while."

 

Emily scoffed. "The girl leaves a perfectly good set-up for the job of her dreams and then runs away from it six months later? Shocking."

 

"Maybe she'd be better suited for small-town journalism. New York City is a back-breaking mistress…not many can keep up."

 

"Ohio can have her."

 

"Now now, don't be catty. Deep down, under that hard English exterior, beats a soft spot for the doe-eyed girl."

 

"I have no sympathy for her, leaving me to deal with," her voice dropped an octave, "Miranda's insufferable moods and twelve different replacements."

 

"Chin up, Red. At least you have things better than Andy Sachs."

 

Miranda pursed her lips, turning her chair to face the window as Nigel excused himself to return to his office.

 

So. Andrea Sachs had run away from _Runaway_. She'd run away from Miranda. And now she was running away from _The New York Mirror_.

 

That wouldn't do.

 

That wouldn't do at all.

 

\---

 

Andy Sachs dropped her bag in front of the staircase, the loud thud resounding through the empty house.

 

"Honey, I'm home!"

 

After a minute or two of awkward silence, a faint "meow" called from the top of the stairs. Andy smiled at the sight of the white feline head that popped around the corner.

 

"Hey, Lady Mac! Come see Mummy!"

 

The white Egyptian Mau licked its paw and resumed her nap.

 

"Brat."

 

Andy shuffled down the hall, flicking on the light as she entered the kitchen. She saw a stack of twenty-dollar bills and rolled her eyes, reaching for the phone. Her mother answered after two rings.

 

"Hi, honey!"

 

"Hey Mom," Andy said, reaching into the refrigerator for a Diet Coke. "What's up with this money on the counter?"

 

"Oh, well we wanted you to be able to get take out or pick up a few things, especially since we're not there."

 

"You didn't need to do that."

 

"We don't _have_ to do anything, but it's not often that our baby girl comes home…And to think we're not even there!"

 

"You'll see me next week. You and Dad never get the chance to get away."

 

Andy's mother sighed into the phone. "The mountains will be here…"

 

"And so will I, next Tuesday. Seriously. You and Dad just enjoy your ski trip. You deserve it."

 

"Are you all set up at the house?"

 

"I just got in, but I'll be fine."

 

"There are fresh towels in the--"

 

"Mom. I lived here for eighteen years. I know where the towels are."

 

"No need to be short, Andrea."

 

Andy sighed and rested her head on the counter. "I'm sorry. It's been a long week. I'm just really glad to be home and to have a little bit of quiet time before I go back to New York."

 

"Enjoy yourself. There's plenty of firewood, the hot tub's good to go -- just relax. You've earned this break."

 

Andy sighed again, tears prickling in her eyes. "Thanks, Mom."

 

"You sound tired, sweety. Why don't you fix yourself a sandwich and get some rest?"

 

"Yea," Andy replied, wiping a stray tear. "Yea, I think I'll do that."

 

"I'll call and check in tomorrow."

 

"Mmhmm, sounds good. Love you."

 

"Love you too. Your father says he misses you."

 

"Ditto." She sniffled. "Bye."

 

After resting the phone back in its cradle, Andy rested her head against her forearm and cried, months of loneliness, dissatisfaction, and yearning draining from her exhausted body.

 

\---

 

There was a great deal of work to be done. There were calls to be made, memos to be typed, notes to be written, proposals to be approved. Under typical circumstances, there would be at least two hours worth of work to do before Miranda's day could be considered complete.

 

However, Miranda Priestly stared blankly at a particularly atrocious page of The Book, her frown lines deepening as she acknowledged her lack of concentration.

 

She pushed The Book aside, finally giving in to her persistent train of thought.

 

Andrea had left New York, perhaps for good.

 

This detail should not bother her.

 

But it did.

 

Miranda left the study in which she worked. She considered going upstairs to see the twins but knew they'd be asleep by now. She turned in the other direction and wandered into the library, which had previously served as Stephen's sanctuary.

 

She glanced around the dimly lit room, unperturbed by how little his presence remained. With his effects no longer scattered about the room, the library looked as though its only inhabitants were the characters in the books it housed. It was a shame, really; she and her first husband had spent years collecting first editions of the world's most distinguished literature and now it was going to waste.

 

Miranda used to be a great reader but had little time for it now. The girls were not yet of the age where books interested them, though Cassidy was becoming increasingly more enraptured with creative writing.

 

Andrea would love this room.

 

Miranda exhaled sharply through her nose, seating herself on window seat. She stared at her knees, counting the pinstripes in her loose Chanel slacks, but sat back against the throw pillow when numbers morphed into the brunette's face.

 

Why should her mind betray her now? It wasn't as if they were close. They were not friends. She was not even particularly convinced that Andrea liked her. But Miranda was…fond of the girl. She had begrudgingly admitted this to herself after many sleepless nights and many uncomfortable, fitful dreams.

 

Why the fact of her fondness was nagging so purposefully at her now was beyond Miranda's comprehension. A woman did not need companionship to survive.

 

A woman like Miranda _certainly_ didn't need companionship with a former employee. Why, of all people, she seemed so particularly attached to Andrea Sachs confused her to no end. She knew nothing of her, nothing that wasn't documented and filed away. Miranda knew the basic statistics but not one detail about the girl's life. She didn't know what books she liked to read. She didn't know what her favorite flower was. She didn't know what her fears were.

 

To Miranda's chagrin, she hated not knowing these details.

 

She knew Andrea the assistant. She knew a beautiful, wide-eyed girl bristling with talent and an unbreakable will to succeed. Miranda shivered as she remembered the electric vibrancy of Andrea's determination. It was refreshing, exhilarating.

 

Miranda knew that on paper and in her work ethic that Andrea Sachs was her match.

 

She exhaled again, a line of hot breath fogging the window against which she leaned. She glanced now out the window, watching the snow falling over her garden. An uncharacteristic wistful melancholy settled upon her then. Miranda rolled her eyes at her own weakness.

 

Why should a woman she barely knew dismantle her so thoroughly?

 

It was clear to Miranda that she would need to find out.

 

\---

 

Andy readjusted the straps of the navy and turquoise one-piece bathing suit and raised her eyebrows as she looked at herself in the vanity mirror. She glanced behind her where Lady Macbeth was perched on the end of the bed, looking appalled at Andy's choice of hot tub attire.

 

"Oh come on," Andy said, turning to pet the cat behind the ears. "I have nothing else. This thing is like eight years old."

 

Lady Macbeth mewled and licked Andy's hand.

 

"Yea yea. No one's here to judge me but you, ya old brat."

 

The cat swiped at her hand.

 

"Who made you the fashion police? You can't boss me around, missy. It's not like you're Miranda Priestly."

 

A tingle coursed down her spine at the mention of her former boss and Andy shook it off as she ventured into the hallway, grabbing a towel from the closet. She headed downstairs, rummaging through the stack of magazines on the coffee table. She tucked a recent issue of _The New Yorker_ under her arm and shook her head when she noticed the latest issue of _Runway_ at the bottom of the pile. She'd have to ask her mother why she continued to subscribe to a magazine that Andy no longer worked for and, more importantly, never wrote for.

 

Without thinking about it, Andy grabbed the issue.

 

Once she had eased herself into the hot tub with a glass of Zinfandel, Andy felt immediately better. She leaned her head back and sighed as the steam dampened her flesh. This was exactly what she needed.

 

A thick wave of guilt washed over her. She clenched her eyes tightly, hoping for it to pass quickly. Her skin prickled, her shoulders tensed.

 

Taking a deep breath, Andy counted to ten and opened her eyes. She felt a little better after moving in front of one of the jets, the water pounding therapeutically into her back. She took a sip of her wine and tried to relax.

 

There was nothing wrong with taking time off, she reminded herself. Guilt boiled in her stomach as she remembered that she'd had a week off only a month and a half before when she came home to celebrate the holidays. She considered it a sign of epic weakness that she needed another break so soon.

 

But Andy was human. And working over 60 hours a week as a cub reporter with very few benefits was taking its toll.

 

She knew she was being taken advantage of; it was like _Runway_ all over again. She was being worked to the bone and she was getting nowhere in advancing her career. She spent her days chasing the cast-off stories that the star reporters at the _Mirror_ didn't want and she forced herself to do it with a smile. She'd be damned if she didn't project a cheery, grateful persona.

 

It wasn't as though she hated her job. She loved the fast-paced world of journalism but, somehow, she expected more. She expected to be a little more fulfilled than this. She had nothing in New York. Lily and Doug barely talked to her. Nate was gone. Her landlord didn't allow pets in her building so any hope of cat-napping Lady Macbeth was extinguished.

 

Andy was lonely. She worked herself to death because she came home to an empty apartment. The empty bed depressed her. It wasn't that she missed Nate. She missed having someone there, someone who cared whether or not she showed up at the end of the day. Someone whose face brightened just by looking at her.

 

Andy frowned and took a large swallow from her glass. What was the point of analyzing her life when she had worked so hard to run away from it for a week? The point of this vacation was to decompress. To regroup. To get her shit together long enough to last until the next vacation, until the next big break.

 

Until her life took a turn for the better.

 

With a resigned sigh, Andy reached for one of the magazines on the ledge of the hot tub, careful not to dip the edges in the water. _Runway_.

 

She examined the front cover, rolling her eyes at the sight of the boxy, skeletal girl. What was beautiful about this girl? She looked hungry. And sickly. It made Andy cringe. And want to eat an entire cheesecake.

 

She flipped through several pages of ads, appreciatively eyeing up a Marc Jacobs handbag and skimming over the table of contents, before settling on the page devoted to the Letter from the Editor.

 

Andy's eyes immediately honed in on the offset image of Miranda. This month's photo of the magazine's editor-in-chief had her perched on the edge of her desk, arms crossed regally in front of her chest. She wore an off-the-shoulder cream blouse, hung modestly over her chest, and a black pencil skirt. Her long legs were crossed at the ankles, her feet encased in what appeared to be Jimmy Choos. Hell, they could be Payless for all Andy knew or cared.

 

Miranda did not smile in this photograph; her lips were pursed slightly and her eyes were stern, staring past the frame of the image. It was almost as if she sought to look into the souls of every reader and expose some hidden truth, some undiscovered yearning. Andy supposed that it was meant to say, "You cannot possibly achieve what I have, but perhaps a fraction of this greatness may be yours."

 

This picture -- no, Miranda _herself_ \-- did not inspire her to spend her rent money on couture. Miranda Priestly somehow made Andy want to be a better version of herself. Months of working as Miranda's assistant revealed that it wasn't so much about proving her worth and ability to Miranda; it was about proving it to herself. At least she could thank Miranda for fine-tuning her work ethic.

 

Andy sighed, folding over the page so she could hold the magazine with one hand while reaching for her wine with the other. She swirled the liquid around her mouth, rolling it around with her tongue, while she studied the photograph. She stared at the familiar lines of Miranda's face, the shape of her mouth, the slope of her nose, the curve of her cheekbones. A warmth settled in the pit of her stomach and a pleasurable throb hummed between her thighs.

 

With a gasp of surprise at her body's response, Andy dropped the magazine.

 

"Shit!" She snatched it up, holding the dripping pages in front of her. Water soaked into the picture and she pursed her lips.

 

This wasn't exactly what she had in mind when she pictured a wet Miranda.

 

Andy wiped a light sheen of sweat from her brow, puffing her cheeks as she let out an exaggerated exhale. Thinking about a wet Miranda, especially while water jets massaged into her lower back and while she was drinking wine and while she was more than a little mentally vulnerable, was so not a good idea.

 

Memories of countless nights of similar thoughts came flooding back. She leaned her heavy head back against the ledge of the hot tub and groaned.

 

Lady Macbeth's small white head appeared, nudging at Andy's hand and pulling her from her inappropriate thoughts.

 

She turned her head and opened her eyes. "So I have a thing for my former boss. So what?"

 

The cat nuzzled her nose against Andy's knuckles.

 

"Of course I know it's wrong. She treated me like crap when I worked for her. I know my attraction is completely irrational."

 

The cat stared at her, her large eyes unblinking.

 

"Please don't give me a hard time, Lady Mac. I feel weird enough about the whole thing as it is. What kind of sane person has feelings for a woman twice her age?" She scratched absentmindedly at the cat's back. "She's probably not even a woman. I'm pretty sure she's a pod person. A really hot pod person." She raised her eyebrow at the cat. "Come on, she is. Take a look at that picture. You'll agree with me. She's a damn good-looking woman. It's too bad she's evil."

 

Guilt pooled once more in her stomach. "You're right. She's not evil. She's just…dedicated to her work. And a little addicted to power." She pursed her lips. "You know, you're a smart cat. She's just misunderstood."

 

The Egyptian Mau licked at Andy's thumb, meowing loudly before heading back towards the kitchen. Andy groaned again and dropped her head against her arm. "I've lost it. I'm conversing with cats and daydreaming about my old boss and uggggghhhaaaaah!"

 

She drained the rest of her glass and, her mind full of resolve, told herself to give up thinking about Miranda Priestly.

 

What was the point of fantasizing about a lost cause?

 

\---                 

 

"Mom, when are you coming back?"

 

"I'll be back on Sunday evening, darling. You'll hardly notice that Mummy's gone."

 

"Yea, but it's boring at Dad's."

 

Miranda smirked at the insult to her ex-husband. "You and Cassidy will have plenty to keep you occupied. You've packed your violins, haven't you?"

 

"Yea, but Dad hates it."

 

"All the more reason to practice, dear."

 

Caroline laughed. There was a slight muffled sound and Miranda knew that the phone was being passed to Cassidy. As suspected, the other twin said, "Where are you going, anyway?"

 

Miranda paused. "To the Midwest. I have to visit a…colleague."

 

The sound of a woman clearing her voice drew Miranda's attention to the flight attendant that stood by her seat. "Ma'am, we're going to need you to fasten your seatbelt and turn off your phone as we prepare for take off."

 

Miranda glared archly, raising an eyebrow until the flight attendant cowered and moved on.

 

"What was that?" Cassidy asked.

 

"Some insipid flight attendant. Mummy is going to have to go now. I expect both of you to be on your best behavior, is that clear?"

 

"Yes, Mom." The phone exchanged hands and Caroline spoke, "Will you bring something back?"

 

Miranda was silent for a moment before answering. "I certainly hope so, darling."

 

In unison, both twins shouted, "Love you!"

 

Miranda smiled. "I love you both." Switching off her Blackberry, Miranda glared at the flight attendant as she passed and fastened the seat belt across her lap. She propped her hand on her chin and pursed her lips, staring out at JFK International Airport. People bustled about, rushing to luggage carriers and trucks, hastening to beat the snow as it began to fall in a dizzy pattern.

 

The light of the plane's interior shone on the window as the New York sky receded into purple and blue. The lustrous glow cast Miranda's reflection upon the glass. She blinked, studying her image, and wondered who Andrea would see when she stood on her doorstep. Would she see Miranda as she'd been in Paris, vulnerable and manipulative? Or would she see Miranda as she was now, weakened by feelings that she couldn't explain?

 

Miranda was not a woman who was accustomed to fear. She lived her life with a fair amount of certainty and confidence.

 

Andrea Sachs deconstructed everything Miranda knew. She wondered how willing the young woman would be to put her back together.

 

\---

 

Andy flipped off the blow dryer, sliding her fingers through her slightly frizzy hair. She pouted, rearranging a few locks of hair and brushing the dark brown strands out of her face. She shook her hair, emulating the women in the hair commercials, hoping that her mane might just magically become fabulous and cooperative instead of lank and wild. She rolled her eyes at her attempt and pulled it back into a loose ponytail.

 

Hanging her towel on the bar in the bathroom, she padded barefoot down the hall into her bedroom. She slipped into a pair of zebra print cotton boyshorts and a white camisole. She hummed to herself as she reached into her drawer for a large, bulky hand-knit charcoal gray sweater that her aunt had given her, shrugging it over her shoulders. Her lounging ensemble was completed by a pair of black and white argyle knee socks.

 

Andy pursed her lips in thought as she studied her bookshelf, selecting at random a stack of books that she'd never had time to read. Novels in hand, she headed for the living room where she lit candles, turned on a quiet jazz station, and fetched a steaming mug of black tea.

 

"This is perfect, Lady Mac," Andy said, settling into the large, overstuffed cushions of the sofa. She snuggled back, grinning, as the cat curled up on her feet. "I can't think of a better way to spend a mental health break, can you?" She wiggled her toes, stroking the cat's belly. Lady Mac purred. "Didn't think so."

 

As Andy reached for the book at the top of the pile, _The Alchemist_ by Paulo Coehlo, she frowned to hear the faint crunching of tires against the salted road. "Who could that be?"

 

She strained in her attempt to ascertain whether or not the car had stopped at her house or at a neighbor's, and with a sigh she heaved herself off the couch and skipped to the window.

 

"Who the hell do we know that drives a blue BMW?"

 

\---

 

Miranda tapped impatiently at the steering wheel, peeved at the knots furling uncomfortably in her abdomen. She was acting like a teenager before the prom, and for heaven's sake, Miranda Priestly did not get nervous over another human being.

 

As if to prove to herself that she was beyond such displays of human feeling, Miranda hoisted her Chanel purse over her shoulder and stepped out of the car.

 

Actually facing the house was a different story. As she rounded the BMW, she stood in front of the white two-story home, her breath hitching painfully in her chest as she noticed Andrea standing at the window. The curtain rustled and she was gone.

 

Miranda climbed the walk, her Christian Lou's slipping as they met ice. She caught her balance as Andrea pulled opened the front door.

 

Miranda's lips parted as she saw her former second assistant standing before her, a lumpy sweater covering her torso and barely reaching mid-thigh. Her large eyes were wider than usual, clearly conveying her shock at seeing Miranda again. She crossed her arms protectively in front of her chest.

 

"Miranda?"

 

"Andrea."

 

Andrea opened her mouth as if to speak and promptly closed it again. She repeated the motion several times, her uncertainty endearingly adorable to Miranda, before cocking her head to the side. "Um. Why are you here?"

 

Before Miranda could respond, a flash of white shot out the door.

 

"No! Shit! Catch that cat!"

 

Miranda furrowed her brow, staring indignantly at Andrea as she quickly jumped into a pair of men's snow boots. Rather than disrupt her iconic cool exterior, Miranda crouched as the cat bolted in her direction and scooped it into her arms, scrunching her nose as its wet paws clung to her Dior jacket.

 

Andrea was clearly surprised by Miranda's help and unceremoniously tripped over the untied laces, toppling forward ungracefully. Miranda surged forward.

 

"Are you--"

 

Andrea winced as she stood, brushing salt and dirt from her knees. "Yes. I'm fine. And mortified." 

 

"Don't be."

 

Andrea raised her eyebrows at that. "I just fell on my face."

 

"It's not as though I wasn't previously aware of your accident prone tendencies." Miranda tugged at the cat, whose claws sunk deeper into the suede. "I believe this is yours."

 

"Right. Uh, thanks. For catching her, I mean. She's an indoor cat." Andrea stepped forward, her hand brushing against Miranda's collarbone as she extracted the cat from her jacket. She stepped back, looking down at a leg that she extended, and pouted as she noticed that her knee was bleeding.

 

"May I come in?" Miranda asked. Under normal circumstances she'd have already been inside, but felt in this situation that imposing herself in such a situation would not aide in her conversation with the younger woman. As Andrea eyed her wearily, Miranda added, "I come in peace."

 

Andrea nodded and walked into the house, standing by the door as she allowed Miranda to pass her.

 

"Am I interrupting?" Miranda asked, motioning to Andrea's attire. Her stomach constricted painfully as she considered that she had perhaps disrupted Andrea while she was entertaining. Her face burned.

 

"Just a hot date with a book and a cup of tea," Andrea responded, bending to allow the cat to jump out of her arms. "Can I take your coat?"

 

Miranda hooked her purse onto the banister of the staircase and motioned to pull her jacket off, frowning as she noticed the dirt and claw marks. Andrea's gaze followed and she gasped, rushing forward.

 

"Oh God, I'm so sorry. I didn't think -- Dammit, I'm so sorry, Miranda!" Andrea smoothed her fingers over the suede, brushing off the dirt and pressing down the pick marks as if she could undo the damage. Miranda's body tingled pleasantly under Andrea's touch before she shook her head.

 

"No matter," she said dismissively, shrugging her shoulders and handing the jacket to Andrea. She watched as the younger woman placed it on the coat rack. "You should clean that knee up before you get an infection."

 

"Hmm? Oh. Right." Andrea shuffled nervously. "Um, why don't you sit in the living room while I grab a bandaid?"

 

"And rubbing alcohol. To clean it out."

 

"Right." She pointed towards the living room and walked down the hall.

 

Miranda watched her go, her eyes fixed on the flash of ivory thigh and the sway of her hips. She inhaled deeply and entered the comfortable-looking living room, her eyes scanning the layout of the room. She observed the tea and stack of books, the pictures on the mantle, the cat staring from atop an ottoman.

 

She had absolutely no idea what to expect when Andrea returned.

 

She'd never been more terrified in her life.

 

\---

 

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod," Andy chanted, flipping on the light switch with trembling hands. She pressed a hand to her pounding heart, breathing deeply. She looked into the mirror, half-expecting to see some sort of spooky reflection or hazy spirals -- something, _anything_ \-- to indicate that she were dreaming.

 

But she was definitely not dreaming.

 

Miranda Priestly was in her fucking living room, and Andy was half dressed, and _why_ the hell was Miranda there?

 

She took another deep breath, aware of the fact that she'd never find out if she continued to freak out in her bathroom. She attempted a few yogic breathing techniques, rolling her shoulders and cracking her knuckles.

 

"Be cool, Andy. Jeez, it's just Miranda." She rolled her eyes at herself. "Ugh. That's the problem. And now I'm talking to myself. Perfect."

 

She looked under the sink, moving around packages of toilet paper and cleaning products as she searched for the first aid kit. Frowning, she looked in the medicine cabinet, shuffling around her parents' effects before glancing at the shelf above the toilet. She spotted the kit and reached for it.

 

Rather than stand on the toilet seat, Andy stood on the tips of her toes, elongating her frame as she grabbed at the case. True to form, she knocked over bottles of shampoo and shaving cream. She shrieked as the bottles fell and hit the floor and sprang back as the first aid kit toppled down at her.

 

"Shitshitshit. Way to go, Andy. Waaay to go." She crouched down, muttering to herself, shaking her head at her clumsiness. "Trash the entire house and the rest of your body while your at it, why don't you?"

 

Before she could respond to her own question, the sound of Miranda clearing her throat caused her to jump. She spun around, dropping a bottle of shampoo once more. "Oh. Hi."

 

"Are you all right? I heard you cry out. I was…concerned."

 

Concerned? What the hell was going on? "No, I just knocked a few things over. I'm fine."

 

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Obviously you're not fine if you've had two accidents in the span of fifteen minutes. Sit on the sink."

 

Andy stared at her.

 

"Sit."

 

Against her better judgment, Andy hopped onto the ledge of the sink, watching in a daze as her former boss picked up the fallen bottles and the first aid kit. She placed them on the sink behind Andy, her hand dangerously close to Andy's thigh, before opening the kit. With dexterous precision she opened a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball.

 

"Knee."

 

Andy robotically lifted her leg, her eyes widening as Miranda began to dab at the laceration. She held the back of her calf, pressing her leg into her stomach to steady it as she cleaned out the wound. Andy hissed, unsure if the alcohol or the close proximity had caused the involuntary reaction. She studied the older woman's features, an octopus of tenderness squirming in her abdomen. A loose lock of silver hair fell over her brow, her blue eyes focused intently on the task at hand.

 

Miranda wiped for several moments after the cut was sufficiently cleaned, gently brushing her thumb against her leg before peering for the trash. "Uh, it's over there," Andy said, her voice breaking slightly as she pointed behind Miranda. Miranda disposed of the cotton ball and looked in the plastic container, shuffling around a few things before pulling out a bandaid. She unwrapped it and raised an eyebrow.

 

"Cinderella?"

 

Andy blushed furiously. "I have nieces."

 

Miranda, to Andy's surprise, chuckled as she placed the bandaid on Andy's skin. Her fingers tickled against her flesh and Andy shivered harshly, a surge of heat rocking her core.

 

"Good as new."

 

"Thank you. You didn't have to, but thank you."

 

"I know." Miranda studied her face. "You don't have to look so surprised, you know."

 

"Well, it's just that…well, you just don't come off as the nurturing type."

 

Miranda straightened her back, squaring her shoulders defensively. "I'm a mother of two young girls who are as graceful as newborn foals."

 

"Yea, but still…"

 

"I'm not completely heartless, Andrea."

 

"I see that." Andy looked up, her bangs tickling her eyebrows. She gripped the sink, watching Miranda as Miranda watched her. "Why are you here, Miranda?"

 

"We need to talk."

 

Andy looked down at her knees. "You could have called, you know," she said quietly.

 

"I preferred not to risk you hanging up on me."

 

Andy furrowed her brow stubbornly. "What makes you think--"

 

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Says the woman who threw her phone into a Parisian fountain like a petulant child."

 

Andy opened her mouth to protest but found, to her dismay, that Miranda was right. "So flying to Ohio seemed like the only logical option?"

 

"I didn't think you'd turn me away. You are equally polite and curious. I assumed I'd have a better chance of getting through to you." Miranda cocked her head to the side. "Perhaps we should leave the bathroom?"

 

Leave it to Miranda to invite Andy into her own living room. "Uh, yea." She hopped off the sink and followed Miranda down the hall, taking her seat on the sofa. To her surprise, Miranda sat at the other end of the couch rather than in the chair across from her. "How did you know I was here?"

 

"One hears things," Miranda replied, looking away.

 

"But who would -- Ooooh. Nigel said something, didn't he?"

 

"Indirectly."

 

"Go figure."

 

"Andrea," Miranda said pointedly, her eyes staring into her own. "You left. Again."

 

Andy scrunched her forehead in confusion. What the hell? "Miranda, I'm sorry, but you're really going to need to spell this one out for me. I have no idea what you're talking about."

 

"You left _Runway_. And now it would appear that you're leaving _The Mirror._ After all I've done to help you advance, you're leaving."

 

"What? I'm not lea-- wait. After all you've done? Are you serious?" She sat up, her agitated body leaning forward at Miranda's suggestion.

 

"You'd never have gotten that job if it hadn't been for my recommendation. You can't deny that."

 

"Miranda, you told my boss that I was a huge disappointment! And you called him an idiot! How was that helpful in any way?"

 

"Obviously he proved me wrong. He hired you, didn't he?"

 

"That's beside the point! He could have easily shown me to the door!"

 

"But he didn't. You're the one missing the point, Andrea. Despite the fact that you walked out on me, I helped you." Miranda looked away, staring at the window. "Against my better judgment it would seem."

 

"Miranda." Andy sighed, completely at a loss as to where to begin. "I walked out on the job. Not on you."

 

Miranda's eyes met hers, her expression unrecognizable. Andy realized that she'd give her left arm to know what Miranda was thinking at that moment. She waited several moments and when Miranda didn't respond, she continued. "I'm not--what exactly did Nigel say to you?"

 

Miranda seemed reluctant to foreclose the details. "He inferred that you weren't adjusting to your position."

 

"And?"

 

"He seemed to believe that you were leaving New York."

 

"Aah." She thought back to the day she'd met him on the street. It had been a particularly crummy day; she'd been freezing and running all over the damn city on fruitless leads that never panned out. She'd been frustrated and fed up and completely at her wit's end. "I told him I was going home for a while."

 

"Yes."

 

"For a week."

 

Miranda's eyelids widened. "A week?"

 

"For a vacation," Andy responded.

 

"A vacation," Miranda repeated weakly. The color drained from her face.

 

"Miranda, did you think…" Andy blushed, her cheeks hot. "Why would it matter if I moved home?"

 

Miranda stood and turned away.

 

\---

 

To say that Miranda was mortified would be an understatement. As she crossed the living room to stand at the large window, she couldn't help but feel incredibly foolish. A heave of anger flashed within her; what in God's name was she doing in Ohio? Andrea Sachs was responsible for making her feel every single emotion that she'd come to despise in the human character. She'd rejected those qualities years ago, believing that she'd evolved because she'd left behind such deplorable emotions as jealousy or yearning.

 

"I came here under the impression that I'd be dragging you back to New York, whether you came willingly or not," Miranda said blankly, staring at her reflection in the glass.

 

She heard Andrea sigh and shift on the couch. "Miranda…you're avoiding my question. I'm going to get an answer from you, but I guess I kinda want to know why you thought I'd leave my job in the first place? Do you have so little faith in my ability?"

 

Miranda spun on her heel, looking Andrea squarely in the eye. "I know you to be extremely capable."

 

"Then why assume that I'd leave after six months?"

 

"You did it with _Runway_."

 

"This is different. This is--"

 

"A job you actually want."

 

"I did want my job as your assistant! But, come on, Miranda, give me a break. It's not easy to be your assistant. And I worked my ass off for you for absolutely no gratification at all. I didn't advance anywhere in my career. I studied to become a journalist. I couldn’t do that at _Runway_."

 

"Yes," Miranda replied, her tongue pressed firmly in her cheek. "And clearly journalism is working out so well for you."

 

"Did you come here to attack my career path? Because I don't deserve that, Miranda. I shouldn't have to justify why I chose to do this for a living."

 

"No. I apologize."

 

Andrea's face softened immediately. Hmm. Miranda had never been keen on apologies and rarely gave them. Once again, she was going against everything she'd stood for in her attempt to keep Andrea at arm's length.

 

"Look. I am happy where I am, despite the shitty hours and the lackluster stories I write. I'm making a difference where I am. What kind of a difference could I have made as your assistant?" She shrugged helplessly, appealing to Miranda's sense.

 

Miranda opened her mouth, her reinforcement of just how essential Andrea was to her ready on her tongue, but closed it just as quickly.

 

"Did you come here to ask me back to the magazine?"

 

"No. I would never beg an assistant to return to my employ. You of all people should understand that by now."

 

"But I don't, Miranda. I don't know you at all."

 

The words stung more than Miranda had anticipated. "Not many do." She heard Andrea stand and she held her breath as the younger woman came to stand beside her. Her heart beat faster.

 

"You don't want me to come back. You don't want me to leave either." Andrea sighed, reaching out tentatively to gently touch Miranda's arm. Miranda jolted at the touch and looked at Andrea's concerned eyes. "You don't know what you want, do you?"

 

Miranda licked her lips. "No. No, I don't."

 

Andrea frowned, her bottom lip puckering out. The act was so appealing that Miranda had to force herself to look away before catching the lip between her teeth.

 

"You are a very talented woman, Andrea. I didn't intend to scare you off when I told you that I see myself in you."

 

"You did."

 

"Because of Nigel."

 

"Yes. And because -- ugh, don't take this the wrong way, but parts of you scare me."

 

Miranda's eyes widened and she turned, slowly returning to the sofa. "What parts are those?"

 

Andrea looked expressly uncomfortable at the question and rubbed at her neck with both hands, the sweater rising slightly on her thighs. Miranda watched the rise and fall of the wool before she looked back at Andrea, who observed her intently. She returned to the couch and sat on the arm. "You're sort of a big deal, Miranda. I'd kill to have half of what you have. But in Paris…the whole Nigel thing threw me. I thought I was starting to see you for who you are and, I don't know, understand you I guess, especially after that night in your hotel room…and it seemed like parts of you came out that I didn't know where there. It was like you weren't really who I imagined you to be and I didn't know you at all."

 

Miranda nodded dully, looking at the cat with the large, expressive eyes.

 

"I offended you, didn't I? No, Miranda, I-- I just felt like I was becoming that same sort of person, you know? I changed and not many people seemed to recognize me and I guess I just didn't want to let it continue. I wanted to be me again."

 

"People do what they must to survive, especially in an instance of desperation."

 

"I…I know that. I get that you threw Nigel under the bus because you needed to save your job. And I know why you did it. You need _Runway_ and _Runway_ needs you." Andrea readjusted her sock, snapping the elastic. "I left because I had to. I didn't want to turn into someone unrecognizable."

 

"I saw you. I still do."

 

Pink tinged Andrea's cheeks. "Maybe you do. I don't. That's why I left. I needed to, I dunno, find myself. I'm still looking."

 

"I see you," Miranda repeated, staring at her intently.

 

"You see what though?" Andrea stood and paced beside the couch. "You said you saw yourself in me. I can't for the life of me figure out what it is. You're this total rockstar and I'm just…me. I'm just lost, overwhelmed Andy Sachs."

 

"You're lost even though you left for the purpose of finding yourself?"

 

"I never said it made any sense." Andrea sat down again, drawing her knees in close.

 

Miranda was extremely aware of the lack of coverage on Andrea's thighs and caught a glimpse of zebra print. She swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat. "I think you know who you are."

 

"Why is that?"

 

"You're a bright woman. You're going through a transitional phase in your life and you're overwhelmed at starting at the bottom. You have to begin at the bottom before you can reach the top. So, you adapt. You endure."

 

Andrea chuckled sadly to herself. "So, what? You flew all the way out here at some cryptic hint of Nigel's for the purpose of being my life coach?"

 

"I'm not entirely sure why I'm here."

 

"You implied that you wanted to see me succeed at _The Mirror_ instead of running away."

 

"Yes. Superficially, anyway."

 

"Miranda?"

 

Miranda's lips parted. She exhaled and looked away.

 

\---

 

Evasive Miranda was extremely perplexing. Domineering Miranda, Angry Miranda, Vague Miranda - Andy had seen most sides of the woman's disposition and had dealt with each accordingly, but this was completely confusing.

 

"Okay…so, there's another reason you're here. Right?" When Miranda didn't answer, Andy repositioned on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. "Did I do something to upset you?"

 

"You left."

 

Andy bit her inner cheek, completely flabbergasted that it had impacted Miranda as greatly as it did. "Look, Miranda…I'm really sorry about leaving the way that I did. It was completely unprofessional. It was childish. I could have at least given you notice, or I could have waited until I got back to New York…"

 

"It's more complicated than that, Andrea."

 

"Can you explain it to me then? Miranda…as much as I would seriously love it, I can't read your mind."

 

The expression on the older woman's face changed quickly from annoyance to resolve. "Haven't you learned yet?" The corner of her mouth turned up in a wry half smile.

 

"Miranda Priestly, did you just crack a joke?"

 

Miranda shrugged nonchalantly and Andy laughed. "I'm full of surprises," Miranda muttered.

 

"I guess so!" Andy laughed, relaxing a little into the couch. She shook her head, disbelieving the surreal turn of her vacation. "I never thought that when we met again that it would be in the house I grew up in."

 

"You wanted us to meet again?"

 

Andy face burned and she looked away. "I always thought it might happen. I mean, we saw each other that day outside of Elias-Clarke. I guess I assumed it would happen sooner or later."

 

Miranda nodded but said nothing and Andy frowned.

 

"Didn't you? Think about it, I mean."

 

"Yes," she said softly. "Yes, I did."

 

Andy's stomach tightened and she felt a hard clench between her thighs. "And what did you imagine?"

 

Miranda shook her head as she slumped back against the couch. "I imagined having a plan." Her eyes flickered over Andy's frame. "I also imagined that you'd be wearing pants."

 

Andy's face burned excruciatingly. She tugged at her sweater and curled her legs further beneath her. "You know, when Miranda Priestly shows up at your door out of the blue while you're on vacation, your clothes are not the first thing on your mind."

 

Miranda snorted. "Most of the population would disagree with you there, Andrea."

 

"I guess I'm just a special exception."

 

"Indeed."

 

Andy laughed sardonically. "You know, I don't get it. I'm sitting here in a baggy, hand-made sweater and knee socks and you're all neat and composed in an outfit that probably costs more than I make in a month, and I'm completely comfortable around you. Maybe you don't have the same hold on me as you used to." Ha. Big fat lie.

 

"Don't sound so disappointed."

 

"I'm not. Believe me, I'm not. It's sort of nice to be able to have a conversation with you without feeling the pressure to say what you want to hear or anticipate your response. It's freeing."

 

Miranda's hands fidgeted in her lap, swirling her rings around her fingers. She caught Andy studying her and immediately stilled her movements. "That's lucky for you. Now that I'm here, I don't know what to say."

 

"You were comfortable talking to me once. There's obviously something you came here to say to me." Andy tilted her head, searching for any sign on Miranda's features to indicate what was running through the woman's mind. She looked painfully conflicted. "Come on, Miranda. You know you want to."

 

Miranda smiled faintly and looked again at Andy, her mouth twitching as if she were rolling her words around her tongue. "I…" Her words trailed off as the cat jumped onto the couch, nuzzling her head against Miranda's leg before looking pointedly at Andy and mewling loudly.

 

Andy giggled. "Someone's hungry after her great, daring escape, huh?" She glanced at Miranda. "You're not allergic, are you?"

 

"No."

 

"I am sorry about your coat," she added sheepishly, stroking the cat's back. "And thank you again for catching her. I'm sort of attached…I don't know what I'd have done if she got away."

 

"I'm glad I was there."

 

"Miranda Priestly saves the day!" she cheered to the cat, tracing her finger over several large gray spots on the cat's white fur.

 

Miranda rolled her eyes and grazed her knuckles against the cat's side. "What's her name?"

 

"Lady Macbeth."

 

"A Shakespeare fan, are we?"

 

"I'm an English nerd. Come on. Someday I'm going to have one of those huge sprawling "Beauty and the Beast" libraries with the rolling ladders and everything…"

 

Miranda's breath hitched slightly but before Andy could question it, she said, "I suppose you watch that with your nieces?"

 

Andy blushed. "Oh, for sure. Yup. Totally."

 

Miranda snorted and scratched behind the cat's ears. "'Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, and fill me from the crown to the toe top-full of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood…'"

 

Andy's stomach knotted, a violent jolt setting her alight with desire. "'Come to my woman’s breasts, and take my milk for gall, you murd’ring ministers'" She giggled. "Who knew I named my cat after you?"

 

The older woman rolled her eyes.

 

"Miranda Priestly quoteth the Bard. Wow."

 

"I took a few English classes in my day."

 

Andy shivered uncontrollably, laying the flat of her palm against the cat's back. "Did you?"

 

"Yes."

 

Miranda's knuckles brushed against Andy's fingertips. Both women gasped. Andy passed her index finger over Miranda's hand, her breath held tightly in her chest. Miranda's hand slid beneath Andy's and Andy gently scratched her fingernails over the impossibly smooth ivory flesh.

 

Her skin felt like it was on fire. As her thumb stroked against Miranda, she found herself choking back a soft moan. Her eyes widened and she looked at Miranda, who stared back, her cheeks flushed.

 

Andy pulled her hand away. "Well, I should make sure Lady Mac has some food before she tries to get out again, huh?" She bolted off the couch, clutching the cat in her arms. "Do you want anything from the kitchen? Tea? Wine? A sandwich?" Miranda licked her lips and shook her head, avoiding Andy's gaze. "No? Okay. Right. Well, I'll be back in a flash."

 

Andy scurried out of the room, her mouth agape.

 

\---

 

Miranda leaned forward, resting her elbows against her knees and placing her head in her hands. Her heart pounded so hard and so fast in her chest that she felt faint. What was that?

 

Miranda laughed bitterly to herself, standing to pace around the room as she agitatedly collected her thoughts. She felt such an extreme sense of dislocation. She had no idea what was happening. She'd been pushed and pulled by Andrea throughout the entire span of their knowing each other and now was no different.

 

She felt unhinged. She felt as though she were slipping into madness, all because of Andrea Sachs.

 

It was infuriating.

 

It was enthralling.

 

She stalled her pacing, watching as Andrea returned to the living room. Her eyes were large and dark-- darker than usual, filled with something that Miranda didn't recognize-- her mouth was parted and her lips moist.

 

"Sorry. You know, gotta feed the pets…"

 

Miranda stepped closer, her heart pounding mercilessly. It was deafening. Andrea's eyelids fluttered.

 

"Uuh…yea, Lady Macbeth…she's, you know, really tiny, but that cat can pack it away. You--you'd be surprised--ooh."

 

As Miranda closed the gap between them, Andrea's muttering culminated in a surprised gasp. She touched her fingertips to Andrea's chin.

 

"Are--are you coming on to me, Miranda?"

 

Miranda tilted Andrea's chin, lifting her mouth painfully close to Miranda's. Miranda's lips brushed carefully against Andrea's, passing back and forth as she drew out a strangled moan from the younger woman's lips. She pecked lightly, the force of her kiss barely distinguishable, before whispering, "Yes."

 

Andrea's lips mumbled Miranda's name before kissing her back, gently, softly, caressing her unbelievably soft lips against Miranda's. Their noses touched, nuzzling, as their small kisses continued. Miranda's hands dropped to Andrea's waist, holding her as if frightened that she'd run away.

 

Andrea didn't run. Her arms curled around Miranda's neck and, oh sweet lord above, she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss. When her tongue unfurled against Andrea's, stroking lingeringly against the younger woman's hot, wet mouth, Andrea moaned.

 

Miranda's knees buckled at the sound, the low cadence resonating directly between her thighs, and she nudged Andrea backwards, walking them several steps until Andrea's back was pressed firmly against the wall.

 

"Oh god, Miranda…" Andrea pressed her lips to Miranda's pulse, her teeth raking gently but firm enough to send a gush of moisture between her thighs. Andrea's fingers scratched at the back of her neck, tangling in her hair.

 

The first contact of the younger woman's fingers against her scalp forced a groan out of Miranda's mouth. Her own hands pressed against Andrea's stomach, stroking her through the wool of the sweater. She shifted her hips against the younger woman's, her head spinning as the hot, firm body against hers surged up to make contact. 

 

Miranda tilted her head, allowing Andrea better access to her neck. Her nipples tightened as she Andrea licked and sucked. "Ooh…Andrea…I've…wanted…this…"

 

"Oh my god, me too. You have no idea," Andrea whimpered as she slid her hands down Miranda's back, pulling at the tie on Miranda's blouse.

 

"I have a very--ooh--good idea," Miranda retorted, hissing as Andrea's hands snuck beneath her blouse and grabbed at her waist, pulling Miranda's body closer against her own.

 

Miranda breathed heavily, covering Andrea's mouth once more with her own. She kissed her greedily, savoring every slip of tongue and stroke of lip and nip of teeth. Miranda's hands pulled up Andrea's sweater, stealing beneath and grazing against the smooth planes of her stomach. One hand slid over the slope of her thigh, squeezing at the round curve of Andrea's ass, while the other slipped beneath a thin, filmy tank top, her fingertips stroking at the swell of a breast.

 

Andrea broke the kiss and moaned loudly, her head dropping back against the wall. Miranda used the opportunity to kiss her throat, dropping wet, open-mouthed kisses against the alabaster flesh. Andrea whimpered, arching her hips against Miranda's. Miranda lifted Andrea's thigh, stepping in between her legs and grinding up against her. They moaned in unison as their bodies rocked against each other; Andrea's leg hooked at Miranda's hip.

 

The position forced Andrea's hands back up to Miranda's shoulders and she threaded her fingers into Miranda's silver hair. Miranda bit Andrea's earlobe before suckling at the sensitive spot behind her ear as her hand cupped Andrea's breast. Andrea screamed, arching her back and whimpering her approval as Miranda's fingers pinched and pulled at her pebbled nipple.

 

"Oooh, please Miranda…please."

 

Miranda's head spun as she rolled Andrea's nipple against her palm. This, she decided, was simply not enough, and she pulled back enough to grab fistfuls of sweater and tugged it over Andrea's head, throwing it behind her. She glanced down at the sight of Andrea's breasts covered in a white tank top trimmed in lace. Miranda swore under her breath before lowering her mouth to one cloth-encased nipple, smearing her lipstick against the fabric as she sucked at Andrea's breast.

 

Andy shrieked, tugging at Miranda's hair as she thumped her head back against the wall. Miranda hissed and grabbed the fabric between her teeth, pulling it down to gain access to Andrea's breast. She nuzzled her nose against the taut, dark pink nub, inhaling the heady scent of lavender and citrus on Andrea's flesh. She fastened her lips around Andrea's nipple, laving her tongue against it and sucking hard at each moan that passed Andrea's lips.

 

"Oh fuck…Uuuhn...Oh, Miranda…pl-please…please…"

 

Miranda entertained the notion of drawing this out; what would she think later of having fucked her former assistant against the wall? Thoughts didn't matter. Nothing mattered except Miranda's hand coming between them and cupping Andrea's sex through her panties. All that was important in this moment was the perfectly formed "O" of Andrea's plump lips as Miranda's fingers unceremoniously slipped inside the fabric, her fingertips brushing against scorching heat.

 

"Yes…please…don't stop!"

 

As if Miranda would-- _could_ \--stop. As the first pass of her long fingers over velvety folds, Miranda was addicted.

 

Andrea squirmed against her hand and Miranda, though slightly uncomfortable at the lack of experience in touching another woman, gave her what she so clearly wanted. Her fingers stroked Andrea's engorged clit, circling it and grazing it with varying degrees of pressure. Andrea moaned her name.

 

Miranda bit at Andrea's nipple before releasing it, standing tall to watch as pleasure shook Andrea's entire frame. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were flushed. The image of her completely exposed - one breast uncovered and her legs parted - nearly suffocated Miranda. She let out a harsh breath and slipped a finger inside of Andrea's tight entrance.

 

The younger woman was so slick that she passed through with ease and Andrea bucked against her, crying out as she pleaded for more. Miranda promptly complied, a second finger gliding in effortlessly. She was so tight, so hot; Miranda's sex throbbed in need.

 

She ignored her own want, drunk with an urgency to see Andrea gripped in passion. She drove her fingers in, curling inside her and sliding out before roughly thrusting in once more. Andrea begged her to go faster, harder, and Miranda could do nothing but exactly as Andrea asked, thrusting her fingers until her wrist ached.

 

Claiming Andrea's mouth, Miranda kissed her, moaning as Andrea sank lower, taking Miranda as deep as she could. Though Miranda longed to return to Andrea's pert, delicious nipple, she gripped her free hand at Andrea's hip, anchoring the girl as she fucked her with everything she had. Andrea cried out incoherently, her walls beginning to clench around Miranda's fingers, and then Miranda pressed her thumb to Andrea's clit.

 

Andrea came, shuddering so hard that Miranda had to pin her to the wall to keep her upright. Miranda watched Andrea's face as she bit her lip, watched her stomach muscles contracting and her legs shake. It was intoxicating.

 

As the constricting of Andrea's sex began to subside, Miranda slowly pulled her fingers out. Andrea sighed and opened her eyes, blinking several times as she focused on Miranda's face.

 

\---

 

Miranda Priestly just fucked Andy against the wall in her parents' living room.

 

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as the colors and flashes of light began to fade from her vision, allowing her to focus on the face of the woman who was responsible for the greatest orgasm she'd ever had.

 

Miranda's cheeks were red, her blue eyes dark and intense. She looked almost surprised.

 

Andy smiled and kissed her.

 

The ability to kiss Miranda Priestly was completely invigorating. Though her body felt like jelly, Andy felt unable to bask in her afterglow. She lowered her leg, sliding it down Miranda's. She cupped Miranda's face as she kissed her, stroking her tongue slowly against her lips.

 

Andy nipped at Miranda's bottom lip, sucking it between her teeth. Miranda gasped. Andy's body tingled pleasantly at the sound. She pushed Miranda gently, using the newly granted space between them to pull Miranda's shirt off and drop it to the floor. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of Miranda's breasts covered in a lacy black La Perla bra. Miranda's erratic breathing caused her flushed breasts to swell against the lace. The older woman stood, unabashed, allowing Andy to look her fill as her fingers deftly undid the button of her pants. She unzipped them slowly and Andy's eyes followed the path of the grinding teeth, gasping as she eyed a flash of black lace.

 

Andy blinked, committing the image to memory before she surged forward, pressing hot kisses against the V between Miranda's breasts. She heard Miranda issue a strangled cry as she cupped the back of Andy's head, her fingers pressing against her scalp. Andy's hands fumbled with the hook of Miranda's bra as she bit at Miranda's nipple through the lace, worrying her tongue against the pebbled bud. Miranda sighed, crying out when Andy grasped it between her teeth and tugged.

 

Andy grinned when Miranda slapped her hands away, her own nimble fingers adeptly unclasping the bra. Andy allowed herself the pleasure of sliding it down her arms, dropping it to the floor as she stared at the perfect swells of flesh presented to her. "You're gorgeous," Andy said, her hands gently cupping Miranda's breasts. She stroked them soothingly, her thumbs caressing against the puckered nipples with a gentle rhythm that betrayed the frenzied passion building within her.

 

"So, so beautiful," she mumbled, walking Miranda backwards until her knees hit the couch. Andy hooked her thumbs into the waist of her pants and underwear, drawing them ever so slowly down Miranda's legs. Though Andy had desperately yearned to see the swirls of lace covering Miranda's modesty, she could not overpower her need to see Miranda stripped bare. No designer clothes. No perfectly manufactured persona. Just Miranda.

 

Andy knelt, helping Miranda step out of her clothes. Once discarded, Andy slid her hands over the finely sculpted calves and toned thighs that she had often stared at. Now they were hers--for however long Miranda wanted her to have them--and she was in no hurry to waste the gift she'd been given. "I used to dream about your legs," Andy whispered, placing soft kisses along Miranda's knees. She inhaled the musky aroma of Miranda's sex and expelled a groan. "I used to think of them wrapped around me." She glanced up, watching Miranda's face as it reflected the depth of her want. She'd never seen Miranda look so beautiful.

 

"Lay on the couch."

 

To Andy's surprise, Miranda obeyed, stretching her long, sinewy body against the plush cushions of the sofa. She blushed furiously; she'd never be able to sit on this couch without thinking of Miranda.

 

Andy stood, slipping her boyshorts over her thighs. They fell to the floor and she stepped out of them, watching Miranda's eyes focus on every move she made. She bent to remove her socks but Miranda shook her head. Andy grinned.

 

As Miranda reached out her hand to beckon Andy forward, Andy straddled her, settling her hips against Miranda's. Both women sighed at the contact of flesh against warm flesh. Miranda's hands stroked along her thighs, her eyes fixed on Andy's. Andy licked her lips and slowly pulled her camisole over her head.

 

"Exquisite," Miranda sighed, her hands coming once more to Andy's breasts. Andy mimicked Miranda's movements, cupping the older woman's breasts and squeezing them gently.

 

Andy imagined the picture they made--two women groping and caressing and rocking their hips slowly against each other. She groaned, swiveling her hips against Miranda's, coating her with her ever-wet arousal.

 

She bent, pressing her mouth to Miranda's and kissing her with a year's worth of longing and need and adoration. Miranda moaned into her mouth, her hands sliding into Andy's hair once more. Their breasts pressed together and Andy twisted her torso, stroking her nipples against Miranda's at an agonizingly slow pace. She noted the force of Miranda's exhalations against her cheek and guessed that she might be drawing closer to her climax. Wow. Miranda Priestly had orgasms. Miranda Priestly had orgasms because of her and the very notion forced Andy's hand between Miranda's legs.

 

Miranda shrieked as Andy's fingers slid into the wetness, searching out every sensitive fold. Miranda's hips squirmed and she closed her eyes, dropping her head back against the arm of the couch.

 

Andy swallowed and bent once more, taking Miranda's nipple into her mouth while her fingers teased at her entrance. Andy had no idea what she was doing. She'd never touched another woman like this before and felt completely inadequate, but Miranda's sighs proved nothing but her enjoyment. Motivated, Andy ground the heel of her hand against Miranda's clit.

 

Miranda bucked and shifted, repositioning her legs to hook over Andy's hips so that they were spread wider. Andy whimpered, images of countless fantasies assailing her. But this wasn't a fantasy. This was reality. This was Miranda fucking Priestly on her couch looking as though she might pass out from her need to get off.

 

Dizzy, Andy sucked and teased Miranda's breasts, alternating between the two as her fingers sought her clit, stroking and teasing the spot with no apparent pattern.

 

Miranda moaned and sighed and rocked her hips into Andy's hand, arching her back as she pressed her breasts further into Andy's mouth. Andy gave everything she had, sucking until her jaw hurt and twisting her fingers until her wrist burned. She didn't care. She could be fucked into a coma and it wouldn't matter because she was doing this to _Miranda Priestly_ and--

 

Miranda's entire body shook, her cries loud and frenzied as her clit pulsed harshly against her fingers. Her nipple popped out from between Andy's lips as she sat up, watching Miranda as she came with an explosive surge of her body. She moaned, uttering things like "Yes" and "Oh God" and "Ahn-dray-oooooh!"

 

Andy sat, staring fixedly, until Miranda pushed her hand away. The other woman slumped against the couch, throwing an arm over her face as she caught her breath. Andy traced little patterns on Miranda's stomach for several moments while Miranda recollected herself; when she kept her face covered, Andy reached for her hand.

 

"No hiding."

 

Miranda blinked.

 

"C'mon. I've got a bed." Andy stood up and tugged Miranda's arm. To her delight, Miranda followed.

 

\---

 

Miranda clutched the flannel sheet to her chest and sat up against the pillow, glancing around the room. A few certificates were framed on the beige walls beside an endless array of books. There was a montage of black and white photographs beside a large desk that held a desktop computer and a collection of files.

 

It was surprisingly bare. For the room that Andrea Sachs grew up in, it was very…mature. Miranda had half expected posters or stuffed animals or photos of friends - something to reflect the persona that she imagined Andrea to have. This room conveyed the very depth of Andrea. It was everything Miranda didn't know and she hated it.

 

She had just shared an incredibly intimate act with someone that she was essentially incompatible with. She knew nothing about her. She slept in _flannel_ sheets for Christ's sake.

 

Miranda rolled her eyes and allowed her head to hit the slatted wooden bed frame, sighing. What was she doing?

 

How the hell was she supposed to know if this was wrong?

 

Andrea entered the room then, carrying two glasses of water. "It's not exactly Pellegrino and I didn't have any lemon slices, but it's the best I could do." She handed Miranda the glass and sat on the bed, legs crossed. She was still completely nude save for the socks. Miranda smiled into her glass and felt immediately warm.

 

Andrea cupped her hands around the glass and tilted her head, looking intently at Miranda. "Penny for your thoughts."

 

Miranda gave a weak smile before taking another sip of her water. She placed the cup on the nightstand. "This isn't what I pictured your bedroom to look like."

 

"You pictured my bedroom?" Andrea grinned. Miranda rolled her eyes. Andrea giggled and leaned over Miranda to place her glass beside hers. She paused over Miranda, kissing her softly before settling beside her beneath the blanket. "It's a little different from my apartment. My apartment is more like _me_. My dad has sort of taken over the room as his office now that I'm gone. The photographs are mine from a few photo courses I took in college, and the books are mine of course. I used to have a few paintings but my parents have apparently taken them down."

 

"What sorts of paintings?"

 

"I had a great Georgia O'Keefe reprint that my older sister used to make fun of constantly. She said it looked like a vagina."

 

"Uninspired Philistine."

 

Andrea laughed. "I got all the artsy genes. My sister got all of the fertile ones."

 

"The so-called nieces?"

 

"I didn't make them up! They exist! I've got photos to prove it. I'll go--"

 

"Don't you dare get out of this bed," Miranda said, tugging the younger woman against her. "It's freezing."

 

"Do you want me to turn up the heat?"

 

"That would require you getting up."

 

"I'll keep you warm." Andrea shifted, tucking Miranda into her arms.

 

Miranda was not prone to cuddling. She was not particularly affectionate beyond what was necessary, but she allowed Andrea to pull her close. Rather than stiffen, she gave herself permission to relax against the warm body.

 

Andrea shifted, curling her body against Miranda's. She draped a leg over Miranda's hip and teased her fingers along her shoulders. Miranda shivered and looked past her, staring at a lamp in the corner of the room.

 

"Miranda?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"What's wrong?"

 

"Why would anything be wrong?"

 

"Your eyes look sad. I can tell there's something going on."

 

Miranda blinked, her eyes burning with tears that she refused to shed. "Are they?"

 

Andrea cupped her cheek, running her thumb over her cheekbone. She tilted Miranda's head upward and looked at her. Her breath hitched. "Yes. Your eyes…oh, wow. They're gorgeous, Miranda. I've always loved your eyes. It's like…when you look at someone or something, that's all you see. It’s all that matters in the entire universe for even just a millisecond. But I've never seen them like this. Not even in Paris. Please…talk to me."

 

Miranda pursed her lips, staring up at the wall. No one had ever been able to read her so thoroughly. It was maddening. It was hopeful.

 

"I lost you once," Miranda said quietly. "I'm not prepared to lose you again."

 

Andrea let out a breath that she had been holding. "Why do you think you're going to lose me?"

 

"All logical and rational thinking suggests that this is a terrible idea. We barely know each other."

 

"Since when have we let rationality and logic run our lives?" Andrea said. "And I'd argue that we know each other better than you think."

 

"Don't be obstinate, Andrea. I'm serious."

 

"So am I."

 

Miranda pursed her lips.

 

"Look…this wasn't just about sex for me. There's something between us, Miranda…something I've never experienced with anyone else. It makes absolutely no sense because you were my boss and you drove me insane but…I feel drawn to you. I don't want to reduce this to just a one night stand and forget it ever happened." She paused. "Do you?"

 

Miranda looked at Andrea, studying her face. If what she said was true…

 

"No."

 

Andrea exhaled sharply. "Phew. You had me going there for a second." She leaned in and kissed Miranda. "You need to let go of whatever is freaking you out. It doesn't have to be this big terrifying thing. We…are attracted to each other. We know each other. We want the same things. What's so bad about moving forward from there?"

 

"It's not that simple, Andrea."

 

"No, but it is."

 

Miranda rolled her eyes and turned her head away, staring at the wall. This was exactly why she couldn't be with someone like Andrea…they'd never see eye to eye. They'd disagree about everything.

 

Andrea slid over Miranda's lap, straddling her and cupping her face. "It's not like we're getting married. It's not like when we get back to New York we'll be splashed all over the papers. We'll take it slow. We'll be quiet and we'll just…get to know each other. Enjoy each other's company. I can't think of anything I'd like more than to be with you."

 

Miranda felt a blush creep on her face.

 

Andrea giggled. "Except maybe blush. I think it's becoming one of my favorite things ever. Making you blush is my new hobby."

 

Miranda snorted and felt her resolve slipping as she looked into Andrea's sincere, hopeful visage.

 

There was no possible way that this could be wrong.

 

\---

 

Andy bent and placed a kiss to Miranda's forehead, hoping the action would help to slow the incessant pounding of her heart. The idea that this might turn out to be a singular occasion made Andy feel more lost than she had to begin with.

 

Miranda made her feel grounded. She felt like she had something to look forward to.

 

No. This couldn't end. Not if Andy had anything to say about it.

 

"Let go, Miranda," Andy said, kissing a slow path down Miranda's face. She placed wet kisses along Miranda's neck, pausing at her pulse and where her shoulder began. "You are so amazing." Andy licked along the slope of her collarbone. "I've wanted you for so long. I can't believe this is really happening."

 

She began to lavish Miranda's breasts, alternating between the two until they were red and glistening and heaving with each of Miranda's deep breaths. She hummed against a puckered nipple, rolling her tongue across each tiny fold in the pink flesh. She glanced up, grinning as she noticed that Miranda's misgivings were clearly overpowered by arousal.

 

Andy slipped beneath the flannel sheet, pulling it over her head as she kissed a trail down Miranda's abdomen and blew her breath against a neatly trimmed silver tuft of hair. Miranda sighed and tugged at the sheet, uncovering Andy's body as she knelt between her thighs.

 

"I thought you were cold?" Andy asked, grinning, as she nipped at Miranda's thigh.

 

"I seem to have warmed up considerably."

 

"Mmm…good." Andy switched between thighs, kissing and sucking until Miranda's legs shook and her hips arched.

 

"Miranda?"

 

"Mmm?"

 

"Do you trust me?"

 

"What does that have to do with anything?"

 

"I need to know," Andy swiped her tongue along Miranda's slit, rolling her juices around her mouth, "that you trust me."

 

"I trust you…"

 

"Are you just saying that because I'm about to eat you out?" She flicked her tongue across Miranda's clit.

 

Miranda moaned.

 

"It's really important to me that you trust me." Lick. "That's the most important element of a new relationship…"

 

"R--rel--what?"

 

"I want to try this with you, Miranda," Andy mumbled, spreading Miranda wide with her fingers. "I think you want to try this too or you wouldn't have come all the way out here."

 

"Mmm…ooh!" Miranda's hips jerked harshly, her legs trembling.

 

"Are you close?"

 

"Yesss…"

 

"Don't come."

 

"I can't--"

 

"You mustn't. Please. Don't come."

 

Miranda exhaled sharply through her nose as her hands clenched around fistfuls of flannel.

 

"Put your faith in me, Miranda." She swirled her tongue around her clit. "I don't have a whole hell of a lot to offer but I want you." She fasted her lips around the throbbing bundle of nerves, licking hard.

 

Miranda cried out, her entire body jerking as she fought her orgasm. Andy was surprised; she'd half expected Miranda to come just for the purpose of reinstating her position of power.

 

"Trust me." She slipped two fingers into Miranda's tight entrance, catching her breath as Miranda hissed and swore. "Give us a chance."

 

"Yes…Yes I'll---ooh--please."

 

"Let go, Miranda." She curled her fingers, pressing them against Miranda's slick wetness. "Come for me now."

 

Once again, Miranda did as she was told. As soon as Andy passed her tongue over her clit, Miranda's body convulsed, undulating in long waves as she cried out Andy's name. Miranda clenched and pulsed around her, forgetting everything in that moment except for Andy.

 

When Miranda stilled, Andy resumed her place spooned up against Miranda. She gave Miranda a sloppy kiss.

 

"Aren't you quite the smooth talker?"

 

"Mmhmm," Andy beamed.

 

"You are aware that an orgasm doesn't solve all of the problems, right?"

 

"The only problem we seem to have is your over-analysis of the situation. Stop being Miranda Priestly and just be Miranda." 

 

"We'll find our way together."

 

Andy beamed. "Yes."

 

\---

 

"I heard Daddy telling Marie that he wants to use our violins for kindling," Caroline confided.

 

Miranda pursed her lips. "Is that so?"

 

"Yea," said Cassidy. "He doesn't know we heard him though."

 

"I see. Did you practice?"

 

"For hours!"

 

Miranda grinned. "Good girls."

 

"You're coming home tonight, right?"

 

"Yes. I'll be home in time to kiss you both goodnight."

 

The twins seemed pleased to hear this and, after several minutes, they disappeared to play their instruments outside of her ex-husband's office.

 

As Miranda hung up the phone, Andrea walked into the living room with her phone tucked against her ear. "No Mom, I didn't spend too much money rescheduling my flight….You just saw me a month ago! It's not the end of the world…you and dad just enjoy the rest of your ski trip, okay?"

 

Miranda watched as Andrea organized the coffee table. The younger woman paused and turned, taking Miranda's hand in her own as she went on to say, "Yes, I got exactly what I came home for."

 

Miranda's heart swelled as Andrea squeezed her hand. As her lover--the thought was so foreign and yet so comforting--wrapped up her phone call, Miranda sat back against the couch with a satisfied smile on her face. Her girls were happy. Her ex-husband was miserable.

 

Most importantly, she was happy.

 

\---

 

Andy dropped her suitcase into the trunk, closing it with a resounding thud. Chewing on her lip, she glanced at the car and then back at the house. Something wasn't right.

 

Opening the passenger door, Andy said, "I forgot something. I need to run back in for just a sec."

 

Miranda rolled her eyes. "We have a flight to catch."

 

"It'll only take a minute." She leaned in, kissing Miranda deeply. As her tongue stroked against Miranda's, a pleasant shudder raced down her back. "Mmm. Back in a flash."

 

"Don't slip this time. You're running out of Disney princess bandaids."

 

"I've got a box in my purse."

 

"For the nieces?"

 

"Of course." Andy grinned, kissed Miranda once more, and ran back up to the house.

 

She kicked the door shut behind her, looking around. She frowned.

 

Lady Macbeth purred from the top of the stairs, looking down at Andy with her large eyes.

 

"There you are!" Andy took the stairs two at a time and sat on the one below where the cat lay. "I'm gonna miss you, you ol' bat. You gonna miss me?" The cat arched her back as Andy scratched. "I thought so. All right. I've got to run now. Miranda's waiting." Lady Macbeth meowed loudly. "Of course I don't know what I'm doing. But I'm happy…I feel like me again. Isn't that a pretty good place to start?" The cat stared. "Bye!" Andy kissed the top of the cat's head and ran down the stairs.

 

Miranda was waiting.

 

\---

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
